


The Five Shinigami That Are Addicted

by Fierygirl0 (orphan_account)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Addiction, Biting, Bondage, Cock Rings, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Masochism, Object Penetration, Reiatsu Play, Rough Sex, Sadism, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fierygirl0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five shinigami that are addicted to five very different things. Namely coffee, sex, books, power, and nicotine. Each is aware of their addiction, but none are capable of stopping, and some don't want to. - In the canon universe, between Aizen's defection and the Winter War. Explicit Aizen/Gin, and brief mentions of unrequited Gin/Matsumoto and Gin/Kira, in both directions. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Shinigami That Are Addicted

_One - Coffee_

She takes a sip of the warm beverage in her hand, letting the aroma permeate the air around her, and quietly contemplates the day about to begin. She is a beacon of control, of calm, and any deviation from that tends to scare those around her. Few have seen the grumbling mess she is before she drags herself from the comfort of her bed and to that first cup of coffee.

Not the last of the day, not by _far_ , but the first one always tastes the best.

Of the few that have been willing to intrude on the sanctuary of her home - the head-captain, Shunsui, and several captains that now reside in the human world - only one has ever dared to pull her from it, before her cup of life was safely empty. The womanizer of a captain has never come near her home again, and is still mildly terrified of her to this day.

She is a healer now, and such displays of violence no longer suit her temperament, but it is hard to remember that before the caffeine is fully in her system. As a medic she is fully aware it's a coping mechanism, a substitute addiction to the adrenaline of a good fight, but allows herself this one drug despite knowing that. It's a mostly harmless habit, one of the least dangerous substances she could be regularly dosing herself with, and the only danger is withdrawal, which, with her knowledge, isn't a danger at all.

The only reason her supply of caffeine should ever be interrupted is in the case of an invasion, or siege, and should that occur, she knows the medical treatment of how to flush the substance from her system in one go with reiatsu. Not a pleasant experience, certainly, but she's done it on enough other shinigami, usually addicted to much more dangerous things, without any permanent side effects. She has enough power that it would be a simple matter, so there's no need to worry about that.

Besides, the caffeine makes it easier to deal with people. For her, as for a small percentage of the population, it is a downer, and it calms the ever present blood lust waiting in the back of her mind. The substance stifles her instinctively violent reactions to being disobeyed, or contradicted. With it, she is capable of smiling, and being the gentle, _kind_ , captain that this generation of shinigami knows. There are very few that still remember who she used to be, and it is safest to keep it that way.

She's found a sort of peace here, so very different from the way she used to live, and it's a feeling she wishes to hold on to. Being satisfied with such a peaceful, quiet life isn't ever what she had imagined, but then, in her life before, she hadn't particularly _imagined_ anything. Her life was battle, and blood, and what did the rest of existence matter except for the next fight?

It's a feeling she can see echoed in her replacement, the current captain of the eleventh. He's not the one that had replaced her originally, but he was the one that had made her finally reconsider her life. When Zaraki was just a boy, before he'd even had a name, they'd had quite the battle. The last _truly_ satisfying fight she can remember having. She'd won, but recognized that the boy was just that, a boy. He was powerful, and he would be even stronger once he was a true adult. She had no desire to wait for him to grow and eventually replace her, so she'd left the eleventh - the division she'd founded - and taken over healing.

One of the Royal Guard had taught her quite a few healing techniques - for the purpose of making sure her opponents lived to fight her again - so she was uniquely qualified to take over control of the then completely organized fourth division. Most of the shinigami that had been around that long ago have since lived and died, or been lost to hollows, and while she can still terrify most of the other division's members with a slight narrowing of her eyes, the reason for that terror has been lost to memory.

It took her a while to find something that made her capable of coping. The eleventh may have been wild, extremely unrefined, but they obeyed her without question. The members of the fourth obeyed just as easily, but it required her to soften. Yelling, or hissing, only drove them crying into a corner most times. It was a difficult thing to adapt to, but the eventual discovery and then use of caffeine made it easier. Now it's mostly practice, a gentle exterior faked for so long that it has become reality.

Someday, if Zaraki does not die, he will face the same problem she did. Someone stronger _will_ come along, even if it is a result of him weakening with age, and he will be beaten. Being a captain for so long doesn't leave someone eager to take orders, especially from their replacement, so he will have to find something else to do, and some way to cope with the loss.

Perhaps she will still be around when it happens, perhaps she will be able to help him.

Her eyes close for a moment, enjoying the warmth seeping through the porcelain cup, and she allows the caffeine settling in her system to calm her nerves. There are reports to file, each treatment of a shinigami in any seated position requiring her assurance that it was done properly. Additionally, she'll have to make the rounds again, the time for each captain's monthly medical check-up is fast approaching. Some will be easy, acquiescing to her request without any kind of procrastination. Others, not so much.

Kurotsuchi despises these, and insists that he can keep track of his health just fine on his own. He always has, and considering the amount of modifications he's made to his own body, with or without permission, she can see why he doesn't want anyone else looking at it. She'll ask him once, before contacting Yamamoto and having him enforce her request. Kurotsuchi will grumble, but even he won't go against a direct order from their superior. Not unless he believes he'll get away with it, anyway.

Komamura is not intentionally disobedient, not ever, but he will put it off as long as possible. The captain in the shape of a fox, a truly strange miracle, is ever uncomfortable being around others. Has been since the day he was first forced to undress before her, as a seated officer. She knew, of course, but hearing is not the same as seeing.

And, of course, there is Zaraki. He's still a relatively new captain, and hasn't been in enough life threatening fights to fully appreciate the value of a healer. She _would_ pass off his examination to someone else, if anyone else was capable of being around the man's true reiatsu level anyway, since being around him is one of the harder things for her. He is a reminder of what she was, what still lurks deep in her soul, and even her zanpakuto whispers encouragement in her mind when Zaraki challenges her. Unfortunately, she is the only one in her division capable of being around his non-restrained reiatsu, and that is a necessity for a true examination.

She drains the last of the cup, and stands with a soft sigh, gathering her robes around her. She leaves the cup on her table, to be cleaned at sometime later in the day, and heads for her division. She is already a few minutes behind schedule, so she restrains the urge to pour herself another cup of steaming coffee. There will be time - and a true need - for it later, after she has visited each captain.

She slips a smile on her face, allowing her hands to fold in front of her, and steps inside her division.

Just another day.

* * *

_ Two - Sex _

He bruises easily.

The marks show up on his skin, livid purple rings around his wrists and fingers on his hips, and he's always quick to erase the bruises as soon as they appear. It doesn't change things, and Aizen always leaves him with more, but the other man never says anything about their disappearance either. In fact, this is an area of their twisted relationship that is simply not discussed. It is confined to the moments it is shared, and if Aizen watches him outside those moments it doesn't matter, and neither of them will say anything.

The first time had been a drunken night back in Soul Society, and while he suspects that his then captain was not nearly as intoxicated as he appeared, he's never been able to prove it to himself. _He_ was certainly drunk, not realizing the sudden effect that alcohol would have on his thin form. He wasn't as young as he looked, but he's always looked younger than he is. His frame is, and always has been, thin to the point of fragile looking, and in the hands of anyone more powerful than him, it is exactly that.

He'd known what Aizen was for a long time, had moved on from being an unseated child officer, to seated, and finally to the older man's lieutenant. Aizen's appearance hadn't changed over the years, but he'd certainly grown older. He'd started his quest to betray Aizen when he was, perhaps, the visual age of seven, and the first time had been when he looked somewhere around fifteen. Not quite an adult, visually, but already close to thirty years old at the time.

And oh, Aizen was _good_. Too much for someone as inexperienced as him, overwhelming, and at the time he didn't truly understand that the dark marks left on him were not ordinary. It didn't matter, even then. It was a single night he had no intention of repeating, and the bruises and scratch marks were easy to heal.

But then, somehow, he ended up under Aizen a second time. These days, he understands that Aizen had manipulated him with startling ease. He wasn't naive - he'd _never_ been naive, growing up in Rukongai had seen to that - but at the time he hadn't known how to play Aizen's game. It had been a simple matter for the older shinigami to twist him around his fingers, and then once again into his bed.

Aizen isn't rough, not exactly, but he's... powerful, and he makes no attempt to restrain that strength. It was almost refreshing, after so many people that were either purposefully violent towards him for being what he was, or those that treated him like glass, and he now knows that that's where things went wrong. The moment he started thinking of Aizen's sexual attention as something besides a physical pleasure, the moment that Aizen became the one person that treated him no different than they would any other person.

These days he can see it with shocking clarity, but back then he hadn't known any better.

Now he knows how to play Aizen's game. Well, he knows the theory, anyway. He doesn't think there _is_ anyone else capable of truly playing Aizen's game, and sometimes he still manages to find himself in places where his only option is to agree to whatever Aizen wants. When it happens usually he pauses, and Aizen gives him that tiny smirk that all but screams, ' _What now, boy?'_ , and then he's bowing his head and doing whatever it is that Aizen has requested.

He'd like to believe that the mission he'd assigned himself - to make Aizen pay for the piece of Rangiku's soul that he'd taken - is still possible, but those moments make him doubt it. Aizen seems to know _everything_ , to plan _everything_ , and every time the older man demonstrates that ability, he questions how well he can really hide his plans from his previous captain.

If Aizen knows, and every day he becomes more convinced that the older man does, then why isn't he dead?

His captain hasn't turned on him, or given any sign that he does anything but trust him - or as close to trusting as Aizen comes, anyway. But, if nothing has changed, has Aizen known all along? Did the - at that point, lieutenant - befriend him even knowing that his goal was to kill the older man? If so, oh _god_ , what does that say about his chances of succeeding?

Aizen isn't quite arrogant, so much as he's confident, and that confidence isn't unfounded in the slightest. The older man is _dangerous_ , and _powerful_ , and a genius on top of it all. It's an intimidating list.

"Thinking again, my snake?" the deep baritone asks, a hand ghosting over his shoulder with the faintest pressure, and he looks over at Aizen with his customary grin. His own mask, serviceable enough, though it's no match to Aizen's.

"A' course, Aizen-taichou," he answers easily, knowing better than to shift either from or towards the older man.

His captain graces him with a small smile, and even with all his experience, he has _no_ idea what Aizen is thinking. It's a terrifying thought, that Aizen could be thinking of snapping his neck or running him through, and he'd never see it past that quirk of lips. The other man steps forward, and his breathing picks up a notch as he's pushed back against the white wall of whatever corridor it is that they happen to be in.

His back hits the wall with more force than is comfortable, nearly forcing the breath from his lungs, one of Aizen's hands pinning him there by his right shoulder. They're the same height now, though for a long time that wasn't the case, but it still feels like Aizen is towering over him. He's never been able to shake the feeling of still being a weak child in the face of Aizen's power, and honestly it's probably safer that way. It's a good reminder that if Aizen _wanted_ to, the older man could kill him at any time, and that he has to pick his moment with unerring accuracy, or die.

His left hand touches the hilt of his sword through his robes, before Aizen has his wrist in a bruising grip, shoving it up against the wall beside his head. His grin flickers, and he bites back a moan of both anticipation and pain. It's wrong, _so_ wrong, that the fingers wrapping around his wrist light a fire low in his stomach. He shouldn't enjoy this, whatever _this_ is, but he can't help himself.

For a while he chose to believe that this was just another part of his mission, that it was something that Aizen wanted, and therefore something that he had to give to stay in his captain's good graces. But that had always been a lie. Maybe Aizen always knew what lay inside him, or maybe Aizen molded him to be this way, but either way now it is purely _his_ reactions. He can't claim that Aizen forces him into this, or that it is anything but consensual, in their own twisted way.

Aizen smirks, as if reading his mind, and releases him in favor of pulling his outer robe from his shoulders. The older man pulls the short zipper down the center of it, allowing it to fall into a puddle at his feet, and he restrains a shiver. Without the large robe, he's left in only the skintight, sleeveless, white shirt beneath it, something that accentuates his thin build. One of Aizen's hands falls to the pale green sash at his waist, holding his hakama up, and he makes a noise that is somewhere in between protesting and nervous.

"Y'know we're 'n th' middle a' th' corridor, righ' Aizen-taichou?"

"What does it matter?" Aizen counters in a soft voice, and the older man's hand slips to wrap around the hilt of Kyouka Suigetsu. For one long moment, as Aizen draws the weapon and the metal rasps against the inside of the sheath, he considers reaching for his own blade, but he quickly discards the idea. With Kyouka Suigetsu already in hand, Aizen would cut him apart before he could even touch Shinso's hilt. "Shatter, Kyouka Suigetsu," Aizen murmurs, watching him with visible amusement. There's a swell of violet light, which he makes no attempt to avoid looking at, and a shiver of power in the air around them. Nothing visibly changes, but that's never a clue with Aizen. His captain releases the blade to fall back into the sheath, stepping forward and pressing him back against the wall. "No one can see us, does that make you feel better, Gin?"

He forces a slight widening of his grin. "Tha' i' does, Aizen-taichou."

Aizen slowly undoes the ties of his hakama, keeping hold of his gaze with those unreadable dark brown eyes, till the fabric joins the pile on the ground. Shinso hits the ground with a soft clang, but he avoids the urge to look down at his only protection, meager as it is. Aizen gives a small smile, fingers slipping under the shirt that falls to the top of his thighs, trailing over and around his hips and sides. He swallows, still caught in those brown eyes, not daring, _never_ daring, to reach out and touch Aizen in turn. Not until, or unless, invited.

It's sick that the knowledge that the hands wrapped gently around his hips - for now, at least - could break the bones beneath them, just as easily as the other man might crush a paper cup, makes the heat in his stomach flare, his cock - long and thin, like the rest of him - give an interested twitch. Aizen doesn't have to look to know, that smile turning to a tiny smirk as his captain hooks fingers under the edge of his top and pulls it up, divesting him of the last of his clothing.

It's equally wrong that standing there, nude but for his socks and shoes, with Aizen still fully dressed, turns the twitch into a more defined swell.

"My snake," Aizen murmurs, eyes finally falling to slide over the rest of his physique in what feels like an almost tangible caress.

"Captain," he answers, keeping the mocking lilt to his voice that people remember him for.

Aizen moves, faster than his eyes can keep up with, flipping him and slamming him chest first against the wall. He gives a muted hiss of pain as soon as his breath returns, as Aizen presses against his back, gripping both his wrists. He doesn't fight, not _ever_ , as Aizen pulls his wrists up to the wall above his head, crossing one over the other. He feels the swell of power against his skin a moment before yellow light forms around his wrists, solidifying into chains that merge directly into the wall. He eyes the kidou briefly, deciding that he could probably break it if he needed to, before allowing his gaze to fall once more.

So, Aizen's in one of his more playful moods.

The other man's hands stroke down his sides, lips pressing against the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, over his spine. One of his captain's hands leaves his side, before there's the distinctive snap of a plastic cap being opened. He can't see past his own arm, not without craning his neck over his shoulder, so he settles for waiting. As expected, Aizen's hand returns at his ass, two fingers shoving in to him with no preamble. They're slick with lube, and he's still moderately loose from their last round not so long ago, but it's still too much, too fast. He gives a soft hiss of pain, and Aizen gives an equally soft chuckle against his neck before biting into it, teeth sinking far enough in that he feels the distinctive sting of broken flesh beneath them.

Despite the pain, or more likely because of it, his cock is hard against the wall. Aizen's fingers are steady, rocking against him in a pale imitation of what the other man will do before too long, and his captain only waits long enough for him to ease into the sensation, for the pain to mostly vanish, before adding a third finger. His grin is gone by that point, teeth clenched, but he keeps silent.

Aizen's free hand grips his upper thigh, pulling his legs far enough apart to slip between them and keep them that way. He gets only a moment of warning, Aizen's fingers slipping completely out of him, before the other man's cock is replacing them. He arches against the wall and a stuttered cry forces itself from his throat, hands clenching above him. Aizen is big, and there's not nearly enough preparation, so the pain is sharp and burning as Aizen hilts himself in one rough thrust. Aizen pauses only a moment, a low moan being released against the skin of his shoulders, before starting to move.

He strangles the sounds of pain fighting to leave his mouth, silently writhing beneath the other man in a deadly mix of pain and pleasure. Maybe Aizen did this to him, made him love the pain he inflicted, or maybe he has always loved it, but it doesn't matter now. He takes what Aizen gives him, the painful burn of the other man's cock, the bruising grip on his hips, the nipping teeth against his shoulders, and his cock only grows harder. It's sick, it's wrong, and he _knows_ that, but _god_ does it feel good.

It is the only place where he doesn't have to compete with Aizen, where he can step off of the knife's edge that has become his entire existence. Here, Aizen is stronger, and more experienced, and can coax whatever reactions from his lips that his captain desires. Here, Aizen has won, and he can surrender to that fact. It's only in his own mind, and the moment they are done he will go back to his balancing act, but this is his only relaxation.

And he's done so many terrible things in the name of his revenge, even to those people that he claims - only to himself - to love, doesn't he deserve this? Doesn't he deserve every bruise, every bite, every punishing thrust that reaches far too deep inside?

Aizen doesn't reach to reciprocate the pleasure, leaves his cock untouched, and he floats inside the blend of physical sensation, teeth clenched tight against the sounds rising in his chest. Eventually the other man's fingers flex on his hips, pulling and forcing his back to arch a little farther, before fucking him with barely leashed strength. Teeth sink into his shoulder, adding to the collection of, no doubt, bruised and bloody marks already there, as Aizen stills deep inside him, and there's the sharp spread of heat deep within. Aizen is pressing him hard against the white wall, barely allowing him to breathe, and he'll probably have bruises on his ribs later from the repeated impacts against the stone.

Aizen releases him after several moments, just enough to allow him to breathe again, though the older man stays pressed close and with cock still inside him as it softens. He twitches at the feeling, familiar as it is, and shudders, breathing hard against the wall and his own arm. He's still hard, as he usually is when Aizen is in a mood like this, and it's always a tossup whether the other man will finish him off or not.

"Always such a delight," Aizen says softly, gentle lips pressing against the skin below his ear, as fingers start a lazy stroke over his sides.

"Pleas'd t' serve," he manages, all but gasping the words, and Aizen hums a sound of amusement against his throat.

"Liar" his captain retorts, though there's no reproach in the tone used.

He feels the brush of power against his skin only a moment later, and gives a startled sound. Oh, Aizen is in a _very_ playful mood. The touch of Aizen's reiatsu is all but physical, the trademark of someone _extremely_ good at control of it, but it's a very rare thing that the other man uses the talents he has for something like this.

Aizen's cock slips from him, but his hole barely has a moment to clench around empty air before his captain's reiatsu is filling the void. It's not the same, there's no real temperature to it, but it tingles and stings against his skin. He gives a choked noise, jerking against the kidou still wrapped around his wrists, as the reiatsu mimics the actions of the real appendage. Aizen's hands are still on his waist, a physical counterpoint to the strangely ghostly feel of the reiatsu, and he arches against the wall as tendrils of the reiatsu wrap around his cock.

"Come for me, my snake?" Aizen asks in a whisper, hands flexing on his waist and doubtlessly leaving more areas that will soon sport dark bruises.

He doesn't have any real choice in the matter, giving a gasping cry as Aizen's attention throws him past the point of no return. He jerks, coming all over the wall he's pressed against, and Aizen gives a sound of approval in his ear. It should sicken him, but all he can feel is an exhausted satisfaction, sagging against his bonds.

Aizen's reiatsu withdraws, and the older man catches him as he releases the kidou, stopping him from falling to the floor on boneless legs. Aizen slowly lowers him to the floor, as he tries to catch his breath, and the older man takes the opportunity to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's a strange, almost uncomfortable, moment after Aizen's treatment of him, and the smirk the other man is wearing when he pulls back proves that he knows it. His captain straightens up, offering him one last, unreadable look, before sweeping down the corridor. Fully dressed, and like nothing ever happened.

He holds back his reaction, somewhere between anger and despair, gathering his outer robe around himself. He clutches it tight for a moment, taking one deep breath in, and then back out, before beginning to redress. He'll need a shower, and some time by himself, to erase the marks Aizen left on him. The only proof this encounter ever happened will be the traces of reiatsu that will cling to him, Aizen's claim lingering to anyone who cares to look.

He tries to ignore the part of him that craves the next time, that looks forward to Aizen's hands on him and the pain that will come with it.

Not that it works.

* * *

_Three - Books_

Her captain jokingly calls it her 'fix'.

On the more challenging days, when things have been harder than usual - and her captain actually deigns to do work - he laughs about her leaving to sequester herself in some dark corner and calm down with her obsession.

Unfortunately, that is closer to the truth than she likes to admit.

At heart she is an introvert, and keeping up such a public profile as a vice-captain is exceedingly draining for her. The hours in her office aren't so bad, or in Shunsui's office, forcing him to work, but her other duties as a vice-captain have never come naturally. She is required to train recruits, oversee the patrols that come and go, and generally make sure every aspect of the division runs smoothly. God knows, Shunsui is nearly useless at it. Their division might love him as a captain, but it is also a well known fact that if not for her, nothing would ever get done here. She is the driving force behind their division, and while it is a required part of her outward profile, it is not something that she finds easy.

She thinks of it like putting on a mask - though given Aizen's recent desertion, she is considering finding a different way to describe it - and moving through life as someone else. Vice-captain Ise isn't her, precisely, so much as it is a persona she puts on. Hiding behind that title she is capable of reaching past her innate dislike of being around too many people, to be the capable and well-liked vice-captain that she is.

That is _not_ to say that she is not capable on her own. Long before she was a vice-captain, she was a young child shinigami. Always hard at work on her studies, avoiding most others, but extremely capable and efficient nonetheless. Moving up the ranks has only had a single effect on her, and that is the inability to avoid people like she used to.

These days, it is even worse. Since the defection has left those three divisions - though mainly the fifth - lacking captains, some responsibility has been shared around the other divisions. In addition to everything she normally does, she is also now responsible for overseeing the training of the fifth division. Essentially, being around even more people, and this time it's people that she doesn't know, which only makes it even more draining.

She sighs, settling down in front of her regular tree in Shunsui's garden, back around a corner where no one usually comes, and sets her lunch beside her and her book on her knees. She cracks it open to the bookmarked page, letting the tension ease from her shoulders as her eyes settle on the words she'd left off on. She idly reaches for her lunch, pulling the bowl to her chest and idly eating out of it as she reads down the large page. The print is small, but for her all that means is that she gets more words to the page, which as far as she's concerned is a bonus.

This is a rare moment.

With Aizen, Tousen, and Ichimaru's betrayal, things have been hectic. Stabilizing the divisions left behind, frantic research into what Aizen is or could be doing in Hueco Mundo, and of course, dealing with the ryoka that had invaded to save the young Kuchiki. They're an interesting group, with fascinating powers, but she is quite pleased that she has little to no interactions with them. Dealing with shinigami is one thing, dealing with humans is quite another, and, for all their power - and with the possible exception of Kurosaki - they are certainly human. She will avoid any responsibility for them as long as possible.

But with everything that's been going on, with all the chaos, it is rare that she has even these lunch breaks to herself. Work has been hard, and long, and when she does eventually make her way home she rarely has the energy for anything but a bath before sleep. Sometimes she can get in a page or two before sleep claims her, but usually not. She hasn't been able to truly settle in and read for a good hour like she normally does, to recharge in private so she can muster the energy to continue the persona of vice-captain Ise, in almost two months. She is running high on stress, to the point where even Shunsui is quietly attending to his work and not baiting and flirting with her as he usually does.

This has been one of her only true moments to herself, outside of work and excluding sleep, since Aizen's defection. There can't have been more than a dozen, if that.

She can feel the stress start to ease, her shoulders losing some of the tension that's been collecting in them, and lets herself fall a little farther into the book. It's one of her favorites, a fantasy novel that she has taken to rereading in between stretches of other, new books, just for the familiar pleased satisfaction. She keeps it in good condition, but the marks of a well loved book can never truly be removed. The creases in the spine, the occasional smudge of fingerprints, and the slightly frayed cover, are all proof of a book that has been read many times over.

Oh, she has missed this.

"Ise fuku-taichou!"

She cringes, just barely able to wipe the startled annoyance off her face before a shinigami comes skidding around the corner. She looks up, recognizing one of the younger recruits of her division, and arches a single eyebrow in question. If he has sought her out, interrupted not only the sanctity of her moment, but her lunch break as well, for anything but a reason she deems acceptable, he _will_ regret it.

She tamps down the irritation, and the slightly homicidal urges. She will discipline him, certainly, remember his name and stick him with the more unpleasant chores for a while, but she will also _resist_ the urge to do any more than that. She will _not_ terrorize her division members without good reason, or for a legitimate offense. No matter how much her introverted side is hissing and spitting in silence behind her gaze.

He bends over for a moment, catching his breath, before straightening up. "Emergency meeting, for all captains and vice-captains, Kyouraku-taichou sent me back to tell you."

Shame that _is_ a legitimately good reason. "Thank you for the notification," she says curtly, and he bows before turning and vanishing back around the corner.

She sighs, closing her book and quickly shoving the remainder of her food into her mouth as she gets to her feet. Grace, and dignity, can occasionally be sacrificed for the sake of speed. She takes the quick way to her office, leaving her book on the table, and taking one quick glance into her captain's office to make sure he isn't lazing about instead of attending this meeting, sending someone to fetch her has never had an impact on _his_ attendance, before heading across the rooftops to the captain's hall.

As it turns out, Aizen has made another move. A foray into Karakura town, and the meeting is to hash out the details of who will be sent and stationed there for the duration of this war. For protection, as backup for the Kurosaki boy and the exile, Urahara. Just enough to guarantee the, at least, stalling, of any forces sent there until true help can arrive. And then, naturally, which divisions will pick up the slack of those who will then be missing ranked officers.

She is silent for the entirety, letting the captains discuss it among themselves, as she doesn't know enough about Karakura, or the ryoka, to contribute anything particularly useful. Across from her, standing in what would have been Tousen's spot, is Hisagi. He stands tall, though clearly slightly uncomfortably, where his captain should be. He's actually the most well adjusted of the three abandoned vice-captains. Kira is present as well, but there are dark circles beneath his eyes, and the fifth division's spot is noticeably empty. Hinamori hasn't yet been released from the fifth, though now it is less due to her injury and more to attempt to fix the young shinigami's psychological devotion to Aizen. Hinamori can't yet be trusted in a position of power.

She does know, however, that were she to come close to Hisagi, he would smell faintly of smoke. She isn't one to judge, not with her near _need_ to get some kind of time alone with her book, and she can't begrudge him his method of coping. It could be much worse, at least he is dealing with his stress in a manner only mildly harmful to himself, and handling all his increased duties with little to no help from anyone else. The fifth is running off other division's charity, pretty much entirely, and there is a fair amount of extra work being done for the third, but the ninth had only perhaps a week of disorganization. After that, Hisagi stepped up to the plate, and quietly took control of everything. The ninth is an efficient division, perhaps more so than any other but the fourth, and that shows through in how easily they adapted to their captain's absence.

If she is allowed her books, and Shunsui his alcohol, then surely Hisagi can be allowed his coping mechanism as well. Especially since the black haired acting-captain is handling so many duties without even a hint of complaint. If it truly becomes a problem, or an addiction, she's absolutely certain that Hisagi will not be the kind to hide it. He'll go by the fourth, and they'll rid him of the habit, and that will be that.

On top of his work ethic, Hisagi is also quite the impressively honorable, and responsible, man. Some day, she is almost positive, he will gain a bankai and the title of captain. When that happens, he will be twice the captain that Tousen ever was. For while Tousen was a good captain, he was not a loved captain. Hisagi, she can say with certainty, will not have that problem.

Kira is questionable, but she is near certain that he will stay a vice-captain. He simply doesn't have the same leadership qualities that Hisagi shows. Though, the third has always been a slightly strange division, so perhaps she is underestimating him.

Eventually, they're dismissed, the issues decided, and the eighth ends up with some light duties to help the tenth, since both captain Hitsugaya and Matsumoto will be going to Karakura. Luckily, it is merely paperwork, and not anything public or hands on. She's fairly certain she would have chained her captain to his desk, and forced _him_ to actually do _his_ work, if Shunsui had volunteered them for anything else.

"Nanao-chan," her captain wheedles, and she mourns the lack of the heavy book she usually carries everywhere with her.

"Yes, captain?" she answers icily, standing outside the hall and beside Shunsui as the other captains, and vice-captains, move past them. Sure enough, as Hisagi passes, she gets a faint whiff of smoke.

Shunsui smiles, and she prepares herself to whack him with the sheath of her zanpakuto - the short blade hidden within her left sleeve, now that they're required to carry them at all times - since she lacks her book. "Go home," he says softly, and she stares at him for a moment, wondering if the stress has finally gotten to her enough that she is beginning to hallucinate.

"Excuse me, captain?" she asks, seeking clarification.

He reaches up, tilting his straw hat down a fraction and giving her a small grin from within the shade of it. "I'm taking you off duty for the rest of today, Nanao-chan. Go home, relax, hm?"

She pauses, narrowing her eyes and trying to figure out if Shunsui is attempting to escape his own duties by removing her from hers."Is there a reason, captain?" she asks coolly, and Shunsui's grin fades to a soft smile.

"Because you need it," he says quietly. "I'll take care of the division for the afternoon."

Well, as tempting as that sounds... "Is it going to be a disaster area tomorrow?" she demands, arching one eyebrow, and he laughs.

"No, no, I'll actually do the work, Nanao-chan."

She considers him for a moment, before nodding. "Very well, I shall. However," she says sharply, before he gets the chance to speak, "I will be assigning a division member to watch you, and make sure that you do _everything_ that needs to be done. Or I _will_ know about it." His face falls slightly, into the pouting puppy dog eyes that so many other shinigami fall for, but she knows damn well they don't bear any consideration. She turns on her heel, throwing over her shoulder, "Thank you for the night off, captain."

She will take every moment to relax, to fully immerse herself in her books, and to recharge her ability to actually deal with people. All without having to worry, or even think about, her rather irritating captain.

This will be a _very_ pleasant afternoon.

* * *

_Four - Power_

He has always enjoyed playing with others, watching them bend, even unknowingly, to his whims, but it's _so_ much more satisfying when they are aware they are being played.

His dear snake, Gin, is the most addictive of his toys.

He'd always known that the younger man intended to kill him, had always known that the young silver haired boy knew what he was, right from the start. It took him a while to figure out why, to connect Gin's friendship with the similarly young redheaded girl that he vaguely remembered stealing power from, but he never had any doubt that the young boy intended to kill him. His snake was always deceptive, but he's no stranger to masks, and Gin's wasn't all that refined. The boy studied him too much, a certain _look_ appearing on the guarded face when the boy thought he wasn't looking.

But oh, how _useful_ the boy was, and is. So determined to stick by his side, his snake was, that he could convince the boy to do almost anything to keep their so called friendship. Things he couldn't do himself without risking his cover, and that anyone else would have flinched from.

He's raised the perfect murderer.

Eventually Gin figured out the depths to which he'd been manipulated, and that had been a priceless day. He barely even remembers what they were doing, some menial thing he's sure, but as usual he'd twisted his snake around to do something the other man wouldn't particularly enjoy. Gin had frozen, simply staring at him with wide ice blue eyes, realization obvious on the younger man's face. He'd answered with a thin smirk, and Gin had jerked into motion, shuttering those startling eyes away once more.

He's fairly certain that his snake has finally figured out, or at least highly suspects, that he knows of the other man's plans to kill him. There are brief moments where he catches the younger man looking at him with barely hidden wariness, and even, sometimes, fear. It pleases him to no end that his second-in-command has made no obvious move, or attempted anything foolhardy. He is absolutely certain that Gin will stay by him, doing whatever it is that he asks of his snake, right up until the day the younger man believes that the chance to kill him has come. How _well_ he's trained his protege.

The rush of satisfaction the knowledge brings is... well, intoxicating.

He has no real fear of the younger man. Gin is fast, and clever, but no match to him in any aspect. He is stronger, faster, smarter, and more experienced on all counts. Gin's mask may as well not be there, for all the good it does against his gaze. The younger man can only read what he allows the younger man to, or what he wants to show, and he has made sure that is the case. If anything does slip, not that it will, Gin will never know if what he's shown the other man is real or not.

When Gin decides the time is right, if the younger man ever does, then he will kill the traitor, and that will be that. If the time comes that he no longer has any use for the younger man, before Gin makes his move, it will certainly simplify things. However, he'd be almost disappointed if his snake waited that long.

Besides, as long as Gin lives, the younger man is at the very least an exquisite toy. There are very few shinigami that would put up with his rougher tastes, fewer still that can stand his power, and an almost non-existent percent that would enjoy it as he has raised Gin to. He can't claim all the credit, Gin has quite the self-loathing streak, but he certainly nurtured the trait.

His snake is so _beautiful_ beneath him, all flawless pale skin and with limbs so delicate they're almost fragile. Hurting him, watching that skin turn dark with bruises, or be smeared by crimson blood, is a sight he would be loath to give up.

It isn't so much the pain, at heart he has only the slightest tendencies towards sadism, but more the knowledge that he can wrap his fingers around that slender throat, squeeze, and Gin will let him. Perhaps out of fear, certainly _not_ from loyalty, but Gin will allow whatever he wishes to do, because he has made the younger man that way.

It's the same thrill he gets from watching his abandoned lieutenant, Hinamori, pine after him and defend him so wholeheartedly. _He_ did that, he made her that way, twisted her mind so thoroughly that she is all but incapable of seeing him as the villain. It's the power behind it, his ability to control those around him as easily as marionettes, that he finds so pleasing.

The physical manifestation of that, Gin's obedience, is merely a satisfying bonus.

Someday, if the opportunity arises, he will force Gin to pick a side. If Matsumoto, or Kira, oppose them, then he will ensure that Gin is forced to either destroy one of them, or risk being exposed. Not from the desire to make his snake pick, but just because he wants to see the younger man's face when he orders it. Matsumoto has always been his snake's true love, even if the younger man betrayed her, but he knows that while the blond was in their division, Gin grew quite fond of Kira, as well.

His snake tried so hard to keep those relationships hidden from him, but of course it was never a possibility. He knew that the younger man loved them the moment he saw them together.

Perhaps Gin was fearful of his jealousy, or his reaction, but his snake never needed to worry.

If Gin had strayed, had slept with either Matsumoto or Kira, it wouldn't have mattered. He had the strongest hold on his second-in-command, by far, and he wouldn't have begrudged his snake a bit of fun with either of the two. Not when Gin would have come back to his bed, as the younger man always did. No single night with either of them would have compared to the nights that he spent with Gin, or the marks he left on his lieutenant.

Gin still hasn't fully grasped how much control he has, perhaps the younger man will never fully understand. Oh, but _he_ knows.

He pauses in front of the door to Gin's room, his own not twenty feet away, and allows a thin smirk to curl his lips. Perhaps now is another time, one more moment that he can unsettle his snake. He turns and steps up to the door, feeling the thrum of power just behind its surface, a kidou. A leftover trait of Gin's childhood in the Rukongai, the younger man rarely sleeps without some form of warning system protecting him. He closes his eyes for a moment as he reaches for it, letting his reiatsu drift over the the barrier and slowly coax it apart. He creates a hole big enough for him to open the door and slide through, before allowing the kidou to resume its protection of Gin's sanctuary.

His steps are nearly silent as he crosses through the bare room and to the door opposite, easing it open without a sound. Gin is nearly invisible in the mound of pillows and blankets atop the bed, only a faint hint of silver hair distinguishing the younger man from the rest of the pile. He steps inside, crossing the room to stand over his snake. One wrist is visible, and he gives a soft smile of amusement at the zanpakuto resting barely an inch from those long fingers. Good protection from anyone but him, like most of Gin's defenses.

He reaches down and lifts his snake's sword from the bed, moving to rest it against the wall beside the door. It tingles angrily at him for touching it, Gin's reiatsu stinging against his senses, but its owner doesn't stir. Kyouka purrs inside his mind, as amused by the other spirit's anger as he is. Gin is utterly still, not sensing his presence, even as he carefully eases down onto the bed behind the younger man. He ghosts fingers over the blanket covering his lieutenant's shoulder, propped up on the other elbow, and only then does his snake rise out of his sleep.

Ice blue eyes flutter open, the younger man stirring beneath the blankets. The moment those eyes find him they snap wide open, and his snake's hand reaches for a weapon that isn't there. Gin inhales sharply, gaze flicking to the empty space beneath the hand with wide, panicked eyes.

"It didn't seem very comfortable to sleep with a sword in your bed," he says softly, restraining all visual clue of his amusement but the thin smirk twisting his lips, "I moved it for you."

He can feel the wired, fearful burst of reiatsu against his senses, as Gin looks back up at him. He smiles, and Gin visibly controls himself, blue eyes flickering closed and lips twisting in the customary wide grin. It's a touch shaky, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Kinda like havin' i' next ta' me, Aizen-taichou," Gin answers.

"Is there a reason you'd need it?" he asks, reaching forward with the arm not holding himself up to grip Gin's throat. The younger man inhales sharply, grin falling and eyes widening, as his fingers wrap around the pale, slender neck. He pauses, enjoying the naked - to him, at least - fear in his snake's eyes as he lightly grips the younger man's throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his hand. Then, a moment later, he gently turns the younger man's head to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, releasing his grip.

Gin's shoulders quake in a tremble that's nearly indecipherable, and with a smirk he purposely leans into the younger man to let him feel the hard press of Kyouka Suigetsu, still strapped to his hip. A subtle tension slips through his snake, but it's gone in a moment. Gin takes in a faintly shaking breath, though their lips are still together, and he pulls back a few inches to let his snake recover.

"A' course na'," the younger man answers after a moment, grin back in place, "jus' surprised ta' see ya, captain. Shoulda been warned ya were comin' in."

He offers a soft smile, not giving Gin a reason why he was able to bypass the younger man's kidou. "What can I say? I like to surprise you." Most of the truth. Surprising the younger man is certainly part of it, but unnerving is better. The moments where Gin can't control reactions, where his snake is gloriously vulnerable to his gaze, are the best. The more moments he can get Gin to question the ability to hide things from him, the better.

"Na' sure a' like bein' surprised, Aizen-taichou," Gin answers tightly, and he smirks.

"Shame."

He curls his free hand under the top of the blankets, cutting off whatever the younger man was going to answer as he pulls them down. He lets his gaze sweep down the miles of pale, unmarred skin as he slides the fabric down it. He lets it sit at Gin's thigh, lowering his head to press his teeth into his snake's shoulder. Gin's frame arches a little, and he raises his hand to pinch the younger man's dusky nipples between his nails. That prompts a further arch, and a bitten back hiss.

He knows it isn't comfortable for Gin, is probably little more than straight out pain, and the complete lack of fight over that is enough to send a tingle of arousal into his gut. Gin is so well trained, so very compliant to any and everything he wants to do. Enough so that there have been many times that he has been more than rough, just to see how far he could push the younger man. He's yet to do something that Gin has stopped him on, or not gotten off on, for that matter.

Oh, he so enjoys his lieutenant.

Though, speaking of...

Kyouka Suigetsu hisses at him, the idea in his mind offending her, and he smirks against Gin's shoulder as he compensates for her abject refusal of it. Not surprising, she has just as much pride as he does, and he would probably never allow someone to use him the way he was contemplating using her. Perhaps some other time, then, when a second option presents itself.

Gin gives a small gasp, and he releases the younger man's nipples in favor of reaching back into his robes to retrieve the small bottle of lube he tends to carry with him. He rarely goes anywhere without it, simply because he's never quite sure when the opportunity will arise to have some fun with the younger man, and it would be a shame if the moment were ruined by a lack of supplies. As rough as he is with the younger man, the friction makes lube an absolute necessity. There's no natural wetness to ease the way, and there's a certain point where the rub will be painful even to him.

He cares very little about how comfortable Gin is, but he does care _very_ much for his own comfort. Hypocritical, perhaps, but does it matter if Gin enjoys everything he does, to some extent? Even if that enjoyment comes from the younger man's own self-loathing desire to be punished for his treason against his friends? If it does, he doesn't care.

He coats his fingers in the slippery liquid, pressing biting kisses to Gin's shoulders and watching the skin turn red, then dark and bruised. His hand slips down the younger man's back, nudging the blanket down and pressing Gin's hip down into the bed. Gin shivers, perhaps at the cool air, but more likely at his touch, and he bites into the back of his snake's neck with a smirk. Not hard enough to break the skin, to taste blood, but enough that he's sure there will be a rather perfect imprint of his teeth.

At least, until the younger man gets around to healing it. Gin doesn't like to walk around with his marks, but that's not something he minds. It just means he has fresh canvas to work with every time, and whatever else he might erase, Gin can't remove the traces of reiatsu that cling to the younger man's soul. He can, but Gin never asks, and why would he volunteer? He did it originally, back in Soul Society, but that was to prevent them from being found out by the rather... judgmental majority of the other shinigami.

He finds the younger man's entrance by touch, pressing lightly at the rim of it for a moment. Gin's back arches, and in a moment of sadism he waits for the younger man to reach the pinnacle of it, where he can feel the tension, before roughly shoving two of his fingers in. Gin yelps, but apart from a single spasm of the younger man's body, and the curl of long fingers into the sheet beneath them, there's no physical fight.

He can feel the quiver of muscle around his fingers, as he rocks them in and out, giving no regard to the resistance he's met with. His superior strength makes it pointless, the body beneath him opening regardless of its will, and with Gin's face against the bed, he lets his amusement show.

What shall he do to his snake today?

He could fuck Gin with nothing but his hand, until the younger man screams for him, or see how many bite marks he can leave on the pale skin... He'd originally thought of fucking Gin with Kyouka Suigetsu - the sheath, that is, not the blade herself - but she seemed none too pleased with that idea, and while the thought of doing it with Shinso, Gin's blade, is beyond amusing, he thinks he'll save that for some other day. When he's either exceptionally pleased, or exceptionally displeased, with Gin.

Perhaps, he'll simply ask.

He leans down over his snake, fingers still working steadily into him, prompting twitches and muted noises of pain from the younger man. Despite that, he can tell from the way Gin's hips are moving, despite the obvious attempt to stop them, that there's no doubt his lieutenant is highly aroused and likely rock hard.

He nudges Gin's throat with his nose, teeth nipping at the skin beneath his ear. "What would you like me to do to you, Gin?" he asks softly, and Gin goes rigid beneath him, muscles contracting sharply around his fingers. He gives a quietly pleased sound at the feeling, giving a bite hard enough to draw blood to the side of Gin's neck.

His lieutenant breathes in short bursts, nearly vibrating with tension beneath him, and he restrains a chuckle as he waits for Gin's answer. It is so very pleasing handing some illusion of control back to those that have accustomed themselves to its lack. Gin knows, without a doubt, that he has absolute control over the younger man, _especially_ when it comes to this, and Gin's become used to that surrender. Asking, for the very first time, what _Gin_ would like, puts the younger man in a position that is in no way comfortable. He's truly curious, what can his lieutenant ask for? What can Gin stomach admitting? Enjoying something silently is a far cry from saying it aloud, let alone asking for it.

"Tha's na' nice, Aizen-taichou," Gin manages eventually, in a strained hiss.

He has to calm the laughter that wants to escape him, only allowing his lips to twist a little farther. "You expect me to be nice?" he asks quietly, making no effort to hide the amusement in his tone. "It's just a question, my snake, all you have to do is answer."

Gin trembles, noticeably this time, the head of silver hair pressing into the bed. The one corner of the younger man's mouth that he can see is tight, flat, and the slits of eyes are completely hidden behind the fall of hair. "Tha's always up ta' ya, Aizen-taichou," Gin says with forced cheer, "na' my place ta choose som'thin' like tha'."

He chuckles, leaning away from Gin so he can properly kneel over his lieutenant, the fingers of one hand still inexorably working into the younger man. "Ah, but I _asked_ , Gin. Indulge me, one thing that you want me to do to you." He allows Gin several moments of silence before giving a soft sigh, this time affecting an air of slight disappointment. "I suppose if you won't tell me, I'll simply have to indulge my own curiosities. I _have_ always been curious how wide I could force you," he stifles the amusement as Gin clenches around his fingers in reaction, "and how you might look held open for my pleasure." Gin's breathing picks up a notch, and he reaches forward with his free hand to grip silver hair, dragging the younger man up in an arch. Gin gives a muted sound of pain, long arms reaching to brace against the bed and help maintain the position. "Or," he says in a soft whisper, speaking directly into his snake's ear, "I've always wondered how it would feel to have you on my lap in the throne, or at the espada's meeting table, invisible to everyone but me."

As well as Tousen, he supposes, but the blind shinigami is doubtless used to the smell of sex on them both, if he hasn't wandered upon them already.

Gin inhales sharply, hands clenching in the sheets beneath them, and he chuckles into the back of the bruised neck. "Wouldn't it be easier just to answer me, Gin?" His lieutenant is trembling, obviously close to fear even if the arousal jutting from between the younger man's thighs is standing high at attention. But Gin doesn't answer him. Well, that just won't do. He'll have his dear snake singing for him soon enough.

He releases Gin's hair, allowing the younger man to all but collapse down against the bed, and presses his now free hand square in the center of the pale back. Gin can fight him all he likes, as if the younger man ever would, but he's far too strong for it to have any effect. Gin will stay right there until he's done, regardless of whatever else his snake might feel like doing.

The moment he begins the incantation for Sajo Sabaku, hadou number sixty-three, Gin's head whips around to look at him. The younger man's ice blue eyes are wide, but still there is only the faintest flex of lithe muscle beneath his hand. His snake will never fight him. He finishes the incantation, the drain on his power barely even registering as thin glowing yellow chain slips from his fingers, winding around his lieutenant's frame. Gin's breathing is fast and panicked, but his lieutenant barely even twitches as the chains spread over the entirety of the thin man's body, locking limbs in whatever position they happened to be in.

He releases the kidou, slipping his fingers from within Gin's body - and watching with pleasure as his snake's hole spasms around nothingness - and wiping the lube off on the sheets beneath them, before reaching between his lieutenant's legs to grab the ready erection waiting there. Gin gives a soft cry, head hanging as muscles work against the chains, and he smiles.

Gin's arousal is obvious, heavy in his hand, and he takes a moment to fondle the sensitive skin - and oh, the _things_ he could do to that length, and will someday - before adding the finishing touch. There's a touch of panicked denial to Gin's second cry, as a piece of yellow chain circles the base of the younger man's erection and pulls what must be painfully tight.

"Aizen-taichou?" Gin asks breathlessly, and he smirks as he trails his fingers over the upper part of his lieutenant's inner thigh.

"You'll get release when you answer my question to my satisfaction, my dear," he says softly. "Or," he curls fingers, raking his nails over the skin he'd been stroking, hard enough to leave thin furrows of broken skin, "when I am _done_ with you." The chains move beneath his hands, pulling Gin's arms behind the younger man's back and binding them hand to opposite elbow. He lifts his lieutenant's lower legs, securing the chains to tie Gin's calves to their accompanying thighs, and then raises one hand to pull a length of chain from the ones around his snake's arms. He takes that bit of chain and pulls it up Gin's back, wrapping the end around his lieutenant's throat. He dismisses any extra, letting only the bare minimum impede his vision of the pale skin spread before him. It takes only a thought and a touch to tighten the chain connecting Gin's bound arms and the collar, forcing his snake to keep perfectly straight, almost arched, or forfeit the right to breathe.

He slips deceptively gentle fingers along Gin's skin, feeling the faint tremble in the firm muscle. He gives a soft noise of appreciation, slowly pushing Gin's thighs apart with unyielding pressure until his lieutenant voices a choked sound of pain, and then a couple inches farther. The muscles of Gin's thighs are trembling violently, and his snake's hands are clenched tight. It brings a smirk to his lips. Still, his darling toy hasn't asked, or pleaded, with him to stop. He even might, if Gin stooped that low, but it will take a lot more than a little pain to make his snake do anything like that.

He taps the chains of kidou, stiffening them to hold the younger man's legs in the unnatural position, and then runs his touch up to the faintly quivering mounds of Gin's ass. He takes a moment just to appreciate the way it looks, the small hole exposed to his eyes, and the globes forced into being by Gin's position, and not because Gin actually has a round ass.

"I'm tempted to have you right now, no more waiting," he comments idly, slipping his fingers down to tease the darker skin, shallowly pressing his fingertips into the ring of muscle. He's sure it would feel fantastic, his lieutenant _always_ feels fantastic, but he did, after all, make promises. He reaches once again for the bottle of lube, coating the fingers of his right hand with the substance, before carefully capping the bottle and setting it aside. It's entirely likely he'll need it again later. He unceremoniously pushes back inside of Gin with the two fingers he'd been using before, smirking when his lieutenant's body takes them easily. Unsurprising, he had fucked Gin with them, for longer than he usually does, while trying to bait an answer out of the younger man.

He immediately adds a third, feeling the slight pressure of resistance, but not paying it any mind. Normally he doesn't bother, unless he wants to watch Gin come undone, but he curls his fingers into his snake in search of the younger man's prostate. It's only a moment's work, and he can see the slight bow of Gin's back as he presses against it. He rocks his fingers into his lieutenant, reaching for the other man's prostate with each roll, and it isn't long before he feels Gin ease into the sensation. He instantly adds a fourth, forcing a keening sound from the younger man as muscles protest his rough entry. He forces his fingers in a touch farther, up to the last knuckle, and leaves them there, tracing his thumb around the edge of the stretched muscle.

Gin shudders, and gives a high pitched moan when he begins to move his fingers again. "A-Aizen-taichou!" the younger man cries out, upper torso pulling against the chains.

"Do you have something to tell me, my snake?" he asks, keeping his voice even. He doesn't stop the rough thrust of his fingers, but he raises his gaze to rest on Gin's shoulders. There's a lesson here that needs to be enforced, and it's that Gin will _not_ deny him what he wants without consequence. He owns his lieutenant's soul, body, and blackened remains of a heart, and Gin needs to remember that. He'll do and take what he likes, when he likes, and the younger man will not defy him without regretting it.

His snake has eased into the unnatural position of his thighs, and out of an evenly mixed curiosity to see how far Gin's legs will bend, and desire to push the younger man beyond his limits, he uses his free left hand to push each thigh an inch further out. Gin gives a strangled shout, clenching around his fingers, and he stills in thought.

Hm... Gin _does_ need to be taught a lesson, and he _did_ have the most enticing idea earlier. Kyouka Suigetsu's cold laugh echoes in his mind, and as Gin heaves in breaths beneath him he smirks. "Do you wish to answer my question, Gin?" he asks, giving his lieutenant one more chance to change his mind and avoid any further enforcement. Not that the younger man knows that, likely.

"Ah'd like ta' be done with this, Captain," Gin says in a shaky, breathless voice. That _is_ a concession of sorts, but it's not what he asked for. Had the younger man begged him for an end to this, he would have truly considered it. _This_ isn't enough, however.

He gives one last thrust of his fingers before withdrawing them, rising off the bed and crossing the room. He can feel Gin's reiatsu flicker with relief, and in pain, and resists the urge to laugh. He leans down, retrieving Shinso from where he'd originally propped it against the wall, and immediately feels Gin's reiatsu spike in a mix of confusion and panic.

"Aizen?" Gin questions, head turning a bit, but he stays out of his lieutenant's line of sight as he approaches with the sword in hand.

He kneels behind his lieutenant, reaching for the bottle of lube again, since he has no particular desire to tear the younger man apart. "I said it before, didn't I?" he counters softly, feeling the zanpakuto's reiatsu fighting against him as he slicks lube over the end of the sheath. "You get release when you answer my question to my satisfaction, or when I'm done with you." He aims the end of the sheath at Gin's stretched hole, and before his snake has more than a moment to consider his words, pushes it forward. Gin goes rigid, back arching, as the rectangular sheath - sloped to a rounded edge at the bottom - insistently spreads the younger man open. He slowly pushes close to ten inches in before pausing, giving Gin a few moments to adjust to the invasion, purely because the younger man is still arched and rigid, faintly shuddering.

His snake doesn't relax, and he leans over the younger man with a small smirk, free hand circling around Gin's hip to tug roughly at his erection. That gets a reaction, his snake giving a cry of something between fear, pain, and pleasure. He doesn't start thrusting the sheath, but he does slowly spin it, forcing Gin's entrance to stretch and contract as the wider portion changes direction. He releases Gin's erection, wrapping his left arm around his lieutenant's thin chest as the younger man trembles and gives sporadic jerks.

"Do I seem 'done' to you, Gin?" he asks quietly, and the younger man makes a whining sound not unlike a wounded animal. He presses the sheath in a few inches farther, till Gin gives a sound of sharp pain.

"Don't," Gin breathes out, "too deep."

Since he doesn't have any desire to actually injure his second-in-command, he heeds the warning, drawing the sheath out a small amount. Gin's head falls back against his shoulder, the arch of pale throat circled by the glow of yellow chain. He continues his slow spin of the sheath, as Gin very, _very_ , slowly relaxes. He has to wonder what precisely is going on in his snake's head, for the younger man to react this badly. He'd meant it to be traumatizing, punishing, but he can only assume that Gin made mental connections that he did not.

This is _not_ to imply that he regrets it in the least. In fact, whatever leaps Gin made that prompted this, he can only find a faint appreciation for them. It is much more efficient than the slower breaking of Gin that he had begun to plan out.

He pauses the spin, holding the heaving torso of his snake close, before drawing the sheath almost entirely out of the younger man. Gin makes a shaky noise, and he pushes it in at the same slow speed, stopping just before the depth that Gin had warned against. Gin goes tense against him again, but this time he doesn't stop for the comfort of the younger man. He picks the pace up, allowing the lube spread over the sheath to do its job as he fucks his lieutenant with the younger man's own sword.

Oh the amusement and _satisfaction_ that thought brings.

After a few thrusts, to make sure he has the depth right, he angles it downwards a bit when the next slide out comes. On his next thrust, Gin yelps in a tone that is nearly void of pain, and he smirks. He tightens his grip on the younger man, letting his mouth, and specifically teeth, return to his favorite habit, marking the pale throat and shoulders of his lieutenant. His snake moans or cries out at every thrust, and he can feel the noises fan the dull fire of arousal that has been burning low in his own stomach. It must be because Gin was so shaken, because usually the younger man isn't nearly so vocal.

He resists the urge to grind his cock against Gin's hip, tamping the fire down with the knowledge that one way or another, however this turns out, he will be fucking Gin later. Gin's thighs are still immobile, still stretched likely painfully wide, and it leaves the entirety of his groin and ass exposed and vulnerable. If Gin wasn't so useful, if he happened to view his snake as just a sex toy, he finds it extremely likely that the younger man would be constantly shackled in a spreader bar, for more or less this same view. It's almost unfortunate that Gin _is_ so useful.

Gin whimpers, fingers clutching at his clothing where the younger man's hands are bound. "Please," his snake manages to say, voice pleading, "please stop."

He gives a particularly harsh inward thrust of the sword, before letting it still deep inside the younger man. "You know my rules, my dear," he answers softly. "Do you have something to say? Or a good incentive for me to release you?"

Gin's breathing is ragged, and a thick shudder works its way down his lieutenant's frame. "Anything you want," his snake answers, voice plain and void of the mocking lilt that usually taints the younger man's voice. "Tell me, please."

That might do. He takes, yes, but it's rare that he ever actually makes Gin do anything but receive his attention. Forcing Gin to acknowledge his wants can be left to a different day, if Gin will willingly obey him instead. That will prove enough of a point. "You have two options," he starts, easing the fingers of his left hand down Gin's ribs in a gentle stroke. "Either you can answer my original question, and tell me what _you_ desire that I do, or, you can do what I order you to while I take my pleasure in your form."

As expected, Gin all but leaps on the second option. "Yes, please, yes."

He makes a soft sound of approval, but doesn't immediately move to free his snake, or remove the sheath from its position. "Understand, my snake. If you disobey me now, this will feel easy in comparison to what your punishment will be." The warning given, he slowly pulls the sheath from inside Gin. His lieutenant gives a strangled groan when it slips free, and he discards it on the edge of the bed, turning back. A touch to each of Gin's thighs releases them, and that prompts a spasm and cry of pain as they unfold and come back into a slightly more natural position. Lastly, he dissolves the yellow chain holding Gin's arms. He leaves the collar, and the cockring.

He lets Gin collapse onto the bed, visibly shaking, and slides off the bed, giving his snake a little distance. He takes his time shedding his clothing, folding each piece as he removes it, and finally setting Kyouka Suigetsu atop the neat pile. He turns back to the bed, now nude - a rare thing when it comes to sex with his snake - to find Gin at least sitting up, though the younger man's head is still hanging low.

"Look at me," he demands, and Gin's head jerks up, slits of blue eyes meeting his gaze. He can see the cowed obedience in the set of his lieutenant's shoulders, in the fear still lingering in those eyes, and in the lack of his snake's guarded grin. "Lie down, on your back." The younger man does, though the blue eyes remain trained on him. There's a faint tremble in his snake's legs, but that's likely nothing more than residual pain.

He moves onto the bed, gripping Gin's legs at the calf and sliding them up till his ankles press against the back of his thighs. He shifts between the bent legs, turning his attention to Gin's right leg, lowering his head to lay biting kisses along his inner thigh. His lieutenant doesn't make a sound till he sinks teeth into the skin barely an inch away from the crease of his thigh and groin, and then it's a stifled hiss of pain. He sinks his teeth a little deeper in appreciation of the noise, until Gin jerks and he can taste the tang of blood, then he pulls back. Gin stiffens, likely anticipating where his teeth will go next, and he offers his snake a smirk, turning to the younger man's other leg to repeat the process. He makes sure there's a matching puncture wound on the other side, before raising his head to meet Gin's gaze.

"Fold your legs up," he orders. Gin hesitates for a brief moment before obeying, legs rising to fold along the younger man's torso. He slides up, pressing in between Gin's legs, until his cock presses along the crease of his lieutenant's ass, only an inch or two from slipping inside the well stretched hole. He lowers one hand, Gin wincing when he shoves three fingers into the entrance. It may be loosened, but the abrupt increase likely hurt some anyway. He's pleased at the amount of lube left over inside the younger man, making it unnecessary to retrieve the bottle from where it ended up, and also at the decent tightness still left. He wipes his fingers off on the sheets after pulling them out, drawing back a few inches from his lieutenant.

Gin gives him a slightly confused look, and he smirks. "Hold yourself open for me, Gin."

Gin's eyes snap wide open, before a mixture of resignation and wariness slides them closed again. His snake reaches around raised legs, The younger man's hands each gripping a handful of ass and pulling himself open. Gin's entrance stretches invitingly, gaping slightly and twitching, but he only chuckles. No, he wants Gin to fully surrender to him, to recognize that he is superior and above the younger man, to be degraded and humiliated by his own choice.

"More than that, my dear snake," he reprimands, and Gin's ice blue eyes flicker in genuine confusion. "I want you to slip two fingers from each of your hands into your own ass, and hold yourself open for me as I fuck you, Gin," he explains, letting his voice become flat and demanding. Gin freezes for a moment, but a smirk from him gets the younger man moving again. His lieutenant haltingly reaches farther inwards, doing as commanded and pressing a total of four fingers into himself at once. The fingers pull apart, slowly, and Gin makes a faint noise of pain. He raises an eyebrow, looking up at the younger man. "Do you really believe that's enough?" he asks. "Farther, until I tell you to stop." His snake gives a full body shudder, and a noise that sounds quite a bit like a dry sob, but obeys.

He watches Gin pull himself wide with no small bit of arousal, and despite being curious if his snake will actually pull far enough to tear himself, does stop the younger man. "Enough," he calls, and Gin freezes, small shivers wracking his frame. He takes a few moments to appreciate the view, giving a pleased sound partially due to the hint of wet tears clinging to Gin's lashes, before letting his arm lower to take his cock in hand. "That's a good boy," he murmurs softly, aligning himself with the stretched open hole, "hold that."

It's an interesting feeling to push into, the press of Gin's knuckles against the sides of his cock before it transitions to the smooth heat of inside Gin. He makes a low sound of pleasure, rocking his hips, but not actually thrusting, enjoying the sensation. He looks down at Gin, at the dark cock bound by yellow chains, and smirks.

"Do you know why I punished you?" he asks, and Gin gives a faint, jerky nod. "Tell me."

"I didn't give you what you wanted," the younger man says shakily, and he lifts one shoulder in a small shrug.

"Close enough. I asked you for something, Gin, nothing but words, and you refused me. This will do for now, but next time you _will_ answer me, or I will not be dissuaded from the punishment you will earn. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Gin manages.

"Then all is forgiven, my dear," he says softly, leaning down over his lieutenant and gently pressing their lips together. He lets the kidou fully dissipate, and immediately Gin arches and cries out, trembling. Not orgasming, but doubtlessly very close. He lays a nipping kiss below Gin's jaw, straightening back up, and takes hold of the younger man's hips, beginning to fuck him in earnest. The sensation isn't as wonderful as usual, due to Gin's fingers, but that is a small minus in a long list of positives, and he will not allow his lieutenant to do anything but follow his order. This is to make a point, and that is more than enough to make up for the slight loss of sensation. He drives in hard, holding very little back, digging his nails into Gin's hips hard enough to raise thin crescent lines of blood.

Gin writhes beneath him as much as the younger man can, and it's a little over a minute before his harsh jabs to his snake's prostate drive him over the edge. His lieutenant arches, nearly screaming in the mix of pleasure and pain as the younger man's cock jerks, spilling seed over both their stomachs. He doesn't hurry, allowing his fast, hard pace to drive him naturally towards his own orgasm. Gin is nearly limp beneath him, chest heaving, but he gets a warm swell of pride at the fact that his snake's fingers are still deep in his own ass, holding himself open as ordered.

Eventually he allows the orgasm to take him, taking several last shallow thrusts as he spills inside of his lieutenant. He rocks his hips, milking the last of it, before pulling free from the younger man. Gin's fingers don't move, and he lets a smile warm his face.

"Very well done, Gin," he praises softly, stroking over each of Gin's thin wrists. "You can relax now." His lieutenant does, fingers unhooking, and he swallows back a leftover surge of arousal at the sight of his snake's entrance slowly clenching back down. Gin's eyes are genuinely closed, head turned sideways, and he takes the opportunity to study the younger man.

He does _so_ love the sight of bruises on Gin's pale, otherwise flawless, skin.

"You're not to heal any of these," he demands, reaching forwards to touch the matching sets of bite marks on Gin's inner thighs.

His lieutenant startles, blue eyes snapping wide open. "What?" Gin asks, clearly stunned.

He smirks, pressing hard enough into the minor wounds to make his lieutenant wince. "My marks," he clarifies, "I'll allow you to remove those that would show in your normal uniform, but you will leave the rest to heal naturally." Gin stares at him, speechless, and he knows exactly why. Since this first started, Gin has always healed what he left, and he has always silently allowed it. This, his uncharacteristic nudity, and their face to face position during the actual act...

He's changing the game that Gin has spent all this time learning, and even better, there's nothing the younger man can do to stop it.

He smiles.

The best puppets are the ones who know they're being manipulated.

* * *

_Five - Nicotine_

The jitter of his fingers against the desk is constant, and he takes a moment to thank whatever God might be listening that he's alone.

He tries to focus on the words of the page, he really does, but the feeling creeps back up on him a second later. A tickle at the back of his neck, eyes watching him from some hidden place. It's ridiculous, damnit he _knows_ it's ridiculous, but it won't go away.

The only danger here is gone, betrayed them all, and left him with a hole in his chest that he can't seem to fill with anything. Work makes it easier - and oh, there's a _lot_ of work now that he's not only running his division by himself, but the newspaper on top of that - but not enough, and whenever he's in this office the niggling feeling comes back. Something is watching him, something wants him dead, because he shouldn't be here. He doesn't have the qualifications to sit in this chair, at this desk, he _doesn't belong_.

He shoves away from the desk, standing and pushing open the shaded window behind it. He stands in front of it, bare arms crossed in front of his chest, one foot tapping the floor in time with his fingers tapping against his other arm.

This is _stupid_. This office was torn apart, meticulously, by the second division when his captain defected, and he's had it done twice more since, not mentioning the several dozens times he's looked around himself. There's absolutely nothing here, and he damn well knows it! So why won't this feeling get the hell away from him?! Damnit, he's not a coward, he's never been a coward, and he's never been what _anyone_ would call paranoid. What is going on?!

It's starting to get worse, too.

It used to just be when he was at his desk, but now he feels it at home too, and it's really fucking with his ability to sleep. At all. It's a constant rise of hairs at the back of his neck, a sense that something is out of place, and someone is watching him. Totally illogical, totally pointless, and a serious aggravation.

Originally he'd been sure that Tousen was still hanging around, waiting to catch him, or any of them, with their guard down, but now... It's just _something_.

He hasn't told anyone, no one else seems to feel it, and he knows exactly what they'd say anyway. There's nothing here, his mind is playing tricks on him, and maybe he should get professionally checked out. He didn't, and doesn't, need anyone else telling him what he already knows. He did go to the fourth division, and there's nothing wrong with him but a bit of exhaustion, a medic confirmed it. He's not dying, or ill, or hallucinating, there is nothing medically or psychologically wrong with him at all. To hell with anyone who might think that he's breaking under the pressure.

Pressure is something he knows, something he's familiar with, it was his day to day life long before Tousen defected and saddled him with both captain and vice-captain responsibilities. He's always been studious, a prodigy, and it's never been his nature to be anything but a hard worker. The older he grew, the more people expected of him, and that was fine. He doesn't mind bearing the burden, it's what he's good at, and so long as the people around him carry their own weight, he's never minded picking up any slack left behind. He had more power than those around him, and picked things up faster, why shouldn't he do more work as well? It always made sense to him.

Even the _idea_ that he might be cracking under the stress of a high workload is ludicrous.

Thus, the reason he hasn't brought up the mystery stalker feeling to anyone else. Him knowing that he's sane, and fine, doesn't mean someone else will get it.

Unfortunately, there's also nothing he can do about it on his own. The feeling is just that, as far as he can tell. There's no reason it should be plaguing him, absolutely nothing of that malevolence that could have infiltrated Soul Society and hid itself for the months he's been getting this feeling. More people would have sensed it, _someone_ would have run across it by now.

Besides, there's no reiatsu attached to the feeling, not even the faintest impression. Not hollow, shinigami, or even quincy.

Fuck it.

He turns back around, reaching for the top left drawer of his desk, and retrieves the carton of cigarettes from within, pulling a single one out before stowing it back away. Something someone had brought back from the human world, a while ago, and he'd confiscated. Yeah, such a fantastic leader he is, using confiscated items.

He steps out of the window, bending low to get through it, into the strange little triangle of grass, ringed on all sides by walls. An accident of construction, if a happy accident. He closes the window, leaning against the wall beside it, and flicks his hand to summon a tiny kidou fireball. He lights the cigarette in it before snuffing the kidou out, raising the vaguely poisonous material to his lips. He takes a deep drag, the slight burn no longer affecting him as it had the first few times, and closes his eyes at the lightheadedness that assaults him. He holds the chemical smoke deep in his lungs for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before releasing it again.

His world dims slightly, and he relaxes back against the wall. It doesn't make the feeling go away, but the chemicals in the deceptively small package dim his senses just far enough that he can't feel the faint sense anymore. When the chemical is burning through his system is the only time he can relax, the only time that he can't feel the eyes on his back. Just enough to dull his abilities. Now, it's the only way he knows to get to sleep.

It's dangerous, and he knows that. He's purposely inhaling a substance that makes him weaker, even if it is only a little bit, and that's _beyond_ a bad idea. But what the hell else is he supposed to do?

No one else can feel it, no one else will understand, and it's the only way he's capable of fully focusing on work, or getting the sleep necessary for him to continue to function as a shinigami. He _needs_ it.

He taps it to remove the excess ash, taking a second inhale, and feels the last faint awareness of the thing watching him fade away. He doesn't immediately venture back inside, staying to finish the cigarette, because that's something he's tried before too. Having just enough to dull the feeling, before stopping. But then his reiatsu burns away the faint traces, and he's back to fidgety and paranoid within the hour. Dosing more heavily is the only way that works, that allows him to maintain enough of the chemical in his system to last most of a day at work. It's not a good solution, but it's the only one he has.

This is a war, the fourth can't afford him distracting them with complaints of a phantom stalker that doesn't even exist. It's not important, and they've already cleared him of all physical and mental problems.

His second choice would be Izuru, the blond does have quite a bit of fourth division experience, but his fellow vice-captain is having a hard time of it.

Izuru isn't like him, isn't the same kind of natural born hard worker, and running the entirety of the third is proving difficult for the blond. If he had the time to spare he would help, but he doesn't. The best he can do is not bother the other man with trivial concerns, and console the blond when Izuru is looking for someone to share the pain of a missing captain. He respected Tousen, but he didn't idolize him the way that Izuru clearly idolized Ichimaru. He'd even go so far as to call it love. That's the betrayal that confuses him most, honestly.

Tousen... was misguided, he's spoken with Komamura enough to know that. Aizen was never what he appeared to be, and the ruthless ambition behind the soft looks took everyone by surprise. But Ichimaru? The silver-haired captain had always been 'the creepy one', though knowing what Aizen is like, Ichimaru turning out like that makes more sense. But Izuru and Rangiku tell of a distantly kind, thoughtful captain. Perhaps always ditching work, or terrorizing people, but Ichimaru's division stood loyally behind the silver-haired captain. Ichimaru can't have been all bad, if his division was loyal. So why did the captain go with Aizen? What part of Ichimaru made the thin man follow a leader like Aizen?

Well, perhaps that's a bad question. Aizen inspired loyalty like no other, he only has to look at Hinamori's near fanatical devotion to know that, but clearly Ichimaru knew what Aizen was. What is it about the true, ruthless, cold Aizen that convinced Ichimaru to go with the traitor?

He has a feeling that these are questions he'll never know the answers to, things that require background information that would be all but impossible to get. Rangiku knew Ichimaru when the traitor was a child, perhaps she knows the answers, but he isn't going to bother her either. The both of them are still grieving, and working.

Renji, of course, is off mooning over the one girl, person even, the idiot can never have. The redhead will likely already be half intoxicated by now, if the exiled shinigami shopkeeper doesn't have the younger man working, anyway. Maybe someday that idiot will figure out that dearest, noble, Rukia, will only ever want her childhood friend as just that. A _friend_.

His four closest friends, and they've all made messes of their life.

Hinamori, devoted to the point of blindness to someone who not only betrayed her, and all of Soul Society, but nearly killed her too. Captain Hitsugaya arrived seconds before Aizen planned to slice her into pieces, she _knows_ this, yet still she follows her teddy bear version of Aizen with a fanatical obsession.

Rangiku, in love with the one man who apparently didn't care. She keeps making mention of the silver haired captain's final words to her - _"I wish you'd held on, just a moment longer."_ \- but what does that matter if the traitor didn't stick around? She's gorgeous, almost any man in Soul Society would kill to have her, and the one man she wants left her behind.

Izuru, equally in love with the _same man_.

Jeez, why is _he_ the only person that can see all of this?

Perhaps it's because he's a step back from the rest of them, a few years older with the exception of Rangiku, and while he misses what Tousen stood for, he never loved the man. His captain was a teacher, a solid stone for the rest of the division to lean against when needed, but he never inspired the loyalty that Aizen's persona, or fucking _Ichimaru,_ did. The ninth has all but adjusted, quietly filling in the needed spot and lacking areas without fuss, while the fifth and third are both still waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

No, that's not fair. The ninth may be the most well adjusted, but the third is coming along well too. They mourned, and now they're recovering. It's the fifth that's falling apart, and he's almost certain that isn't entirely their fault. Hinamori is, of course, more or less useless at the moment, but the rest of the fifth seems to have been so dependent on their benevolent, perfect, captain that they don't have a clue what to do with Aizen gone. It's honestly weird enough that he's pretty sure Aizen made sure they were that way.

He takes the last breath of smoke before dropping the cigarette to the grass and crushing the ember out with his heel. He heads back inside, slipping back in through the window, and resumes his seat at his desk. Now, the words come clearly. He sighs and sets to work, scanning over the stack of papers. He needs to get through all of these within the hour, so that he can go oversee the training of their newest recruits, and now that he can actually concentrate that shouldn't be a problem.

It's just a habit. He'll drop it after the war, when all this is said and done and the medics have any free time on their hands.

He can stop whenever he needs to.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to mention some things about why I decided to consider the Aizen/Gin scenes dubcon instead of noncon. To head anyone off at the pass here. Gin, in this fiction, is a masochist, he enjoys what Aizen does to him. In his mind - and this is completely the character - this means that he is wrong, and sick, and this is an unhealthy desire. However, he also decided a long time ago that he _must_ stay by Aizen, regardless of consequence, so while he knows it isn't healthy, he made the choice to stay. In Aizen's piece, Aizen pushes far past the invisible lines that Gin has drawn regarding their interactions, and both characters are fully aware that's what's going on. Gin gets the bad end of this one, because Aizen catches him off guard and vulnerable right off the bat. Also, because Aizen goes into that scene with exactly that end goal in mind. Not necessarily how it turned out, but with the goal to unnerve Gin somehow. So let me set something straight here.
> 
> Gin physically enjoys almost everything that Aizen does, despite the fact that he does not _like_ or _want_ most of it, but he is also filled with self-loathing over betraying the two people he loves to follow his revenge, and partially believes that he deserves anything Aizen does to him for being that horrible of a person. However, what makes this dubcon in my mind, and not noncon, is that Gin made the choice to stay by Aizen's side no, matter, what. He chose to allow Aizen to use him in whatever way Aizen wanted to, for the sake of his revenge.
> 
> Gin, _chose_ this. It is not a healthy relationship in any sense of the word, but it is one that Gin chose to allow. In his mind, all of it is consensual.


End file.
